Heavy. Silent. Men Part II

Editor’s Note: Part Two; The Unbroken Current

When we first mapped out our coverage for Men’s Health Month, the plan was simple: create space for our brothers to speak. But as the submissions, interviews, and raw reflections poured in, it became glaringly obvious that a single feature could never hold the weight of what was being shared.

So, we did what any publication committed to the culture must do: we split this feature into two parts.

This shift tells me one undeniable thing: our men have an incredible amount to say. The real question is, are we actually listening?

For a long time, society has criticized men for their silence, while simultaneously ignoring the spaces that force them into it. When African Caribbean men stand up to share their victories, their heavy burdens, and their blueprints for the future, it shouldn’t require a crisis for us to tune in.

Part Two of this feature is a direct challenge to our community to stop listening merely to react, and to start listening to understand. The mic is unmuted. Let’s make sure we are paying attention.

Simone Jennifer Smith

Editor-in-Chief, Toronto Caribbean Newspaper

After the strength, there is silence, and inside that silence, there are things men have learned not to say out loud. Somewhere along the way, expression became a risk. Vulnerability became liability, and being the man meant carrying it, alone.

In Part I, we witnessed the weight: responsibility, expectation, survival. Here, we move beneath it. Into the quieter truths. The fear of being valued only for what you provide. The uncertainty that comes with leading when you don’t have all the answers. The ache of giving love in ways that are not always returned or recognized. The longing for consistency, for softness, for a space to exhale without consequence.

What is striking is what connects these men. A shared desire to be understood without having to translate their pain. A shared hope that strength can expand to include honesty. A shared question that lingers beneath every role they fulfill. “Who am I allowed to be when I am not being everything to everyone else?”

This is a redefinition, and if we are willing to listen closely, it may be the beginning of something our communities have needed for a long time; men who are supported.

I believe it to be true that a man should be on a journey of growth and conquest.

Jay Kapadia (Entrepreneur, Owner KappaKuts)

“Men are raised to be the protector, the provider, the unshakeable rock, and that expectation is a reality that should continue to persist.  In a world where hard truths and facts are ignored in favour of a soft and tender liberal appeasement, being a traditional man is in itself an act of rebellion.

With this simple act of rebellion, one has to deal with the turmoil of continued growth and conquest. A journey that often leaves us with the question, “Is it all worth it?”

The reward for such a journey is often silent admiration for those on the same path.

When a man chooses to be silent about the pains and struggles of his journey, there’s a voice that comes about that makes you question the direction of that path.

“Am I supposed to be doing this? What if there’s something more or even if there’s something less that might make us happy? Is happiness what it’s all about? If it is, then why even do this when we can just live like a king in India with $100k, or as a mango farmer in Mexico, or as a blueberry farmer in Serbia”

I believe it to be true that a man should be on a journey of growth and conquest. A creator on the canvas on earth. I fear the path is now one that is convoluted and distorted, and that the true destination may never be known. I hope that time and effort drilled in a direction of growth prevail as the path to endure amidst a righteous yet confusing universe.”

Dwayne Holness (Creative Director & Founder, Corex Creative)

“If I strip all of that away, the provider, the protector, the one who’s supposed to have it handled, what’s underneath is simple. I want to feel loved. Taken care of. Understood.

We pour out constantly. Men are raised to be the rock, the one that everybody leans on, and we give and give but rarely receive anything in return. It takes a toll you don’t talk about. You start to feel misunderstood. You love people in ways you don’t feel loved back. You carry the weight of the world and quietly wonder if anyone’s going to help you carry yours.

So, the truth I don’t get to say out loud is that I want a safe place to just be. To express what I’m feeling without judgment, without it costing me something. To be heard. Neither fixed nor challenged, just heard.

Not for one day. Consistently. A lot of us don’t even know what consistent love looks like. Consistent protection. Consistent understanding. It was never really modelled for us, so we don’t ask for it, but it shapes everything, who we are, how we show up, and how much of ourselves we have left to give.

That’s the thing I carry. I would love to feel those things. Not once. On a regular basis.”

Freddy Freeze Lopez (Digital Creator)

“I am writing to share some personal reflections on emotional vulnerability and its importance in our lives. Having been raised in a strict military household, I grew up believing that crying was a sign of weakness. For many years, I prioritized stoicism and suppressed my emotions to maintain that image.

Adulthood, however, has shifted my perspective. Navigating various challenges taught me that expressing grief and frustration is both necessary and therapeutic. This experience has redefined my understanding of strength; I now believe that true courage lies in being vulnerable.

I am committed to dismantling the stigma surrounding emotional expression. As a parent to three sons, I encourage them to express their feelings openly and without shame. I also advocate for this honesty within my broader social circle, as I believe redefining strength in this way is essential for our well-being.”

Dr. Vibe (Co-Host – Monthly Fatherhood Conversations Sponsored by Dove Men+Care)

“If I strip all of that away, the expectation to always be strong, composed, and unbreakable, one truth I carry is that even the “rock” needs somewhere safe to rest.

There are moments when the weight of being everything for everyone feels heavy, and yet there aren’t many spaces where Black men can lay that weight down without judgment. A quiet fear I hold is that if I show too much vulnerability, I’ll be seen as less capable or less dependable, but at the same time, my deepest hope is that we are moving toward a world where Black men can be fully human. Where strength includes softness, where asking for help is respected, and where we don’t have to choose between being providers and being whole.”

Strength is being willing to carry your responsibilities while still being honest about your struggles.

Pvrx (Artist)

“One truth I carry is wondering whether the people I love truly understand the weight I carry for them.

I’ve lost people I believed in, chased dreams that felt impossible, and spent years trying to create opportunities not just for myself, but for those around me. Most days I keep moving because that’s what men are taught to do. We learn to shoulder responsibility without talking about it and to keep pushing forward no matter what.

More than anything, I hope the people around me know that everything I do comes from a place of love, and that one day the sacrifices, long nights, and hard choices will all make sense.”

Neil McEachrane (Retired Constable, Windsor Police)

“So, not only are we, as Caribbean men, expected to be the rock, we take that on with pride. My hope, however, is that more of us look inward and realize that we don’t do this alone. Our partners quietly play an important role helping with that load, while allowing us to keep our egos intact. We have to acknowledge and respect the important part they play.”

Justin Alliman (Global Basketball Coordinator/ Business Consultant/ Brand Builder)

“One truth I don’t often say out loud is that sometimes I wonder if everything I’ve built could disappear tomorrow. As an entrepreneur, husband, father, and mentor to hundreds of young people, there are moments where the responsibility feels heavy. Not because I don’t believe in myself, but because so many people are depending on me to keep showing up.

At the same time, my greatest hope is that the next generation of men understands that strength isn’t the absence of fear. Strength is being willing to carry your responsibilities while still being honest about your struggles. It’s asking for help when you need it. It’s choosing growth over ego. It’s understanding that being vulnerable doesn’t make you less of a man; it makes you human.

I want young men to know that they don’t have to choose between being strong and being real. They can be both.”

Ryan Singh (Producer, Filmmaker @ Ryan Singh Productions Ltd.)

“I’ve always lived among strong women who I admire: my mom, wife, grams, cousins, sisters and daughter. Among these voices, my voice and perspective sometimes feel lost, but when I sit down and peel back the layers, I couldn’t be the person I am without their strength and resilience.

It’s what keeps me grounded. I think without them my life would be disrupted. As a Caribbean man, recognizing that women play an important part in shaping our world, keeping us healthy by encouraging us to go to the doctors, and silently ensuring we are provided for is not only healthy, it is our strength.”